Danny Williams, Physics Genius
by sockie1000
Summary: "So, let me get this straight. We've been buried alive by a coffee farmer turned smuggler and nobody knows we are missing and we don't have a way to contact anyone?" ** Danny whump, Steve whump, and a whole lotta snark.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Danny Williams, Physics Genius

Author: sockie1000

Summary: "So, let me get this straight. We've been buried alive by a coffee farmer turned smuggler and nobody knows we are missing and we don't have a way to contact anyone?" ** Danny whump, Steve, whump, and a whole lotta snark.

Author's notes: After the kind response to "Flying", I decided to try another straight-up h/c story for you all. But when I sat down to write, what came out was a lot of banter (from the guys) and pent-up snark (from me). I hope that's ok. (I promise, the h/c is still there, too.) ;)

Thanks, as always, to Cokie316 and Rogue Tomato for their thoughts, generous gifts of time, and for being fantastic betas.

And thanks to Faye Dartmouth for the encouragement and for thinking a small incident in my real life could make an interesting story (with major embellishment, of course.) Hopefully, you will agree.

Oh, and this story is set in season 2, post Lori and Joe because, yeah. You know why.

* * *

><p>Chapter One<p>

"This isn't exactly what I would call low profile," Danny commented as he waved his hand around the interior of the police cruiser.

"Maybe not," Steve responded, his hands firmly gripping the wheel, "but it's the best Hawaii PD could do on such short notice. Besides," he added with a grin, "it could have been worse."

"How's that?"

"I could have taken their chopper."

Danny nodded and pursed his lips. "Well, that certainly would have been worse. I applaud your restraint."

Steve grinned again. "Well, it really wasn't restraint. They needed to gas it up and I didn't want to wait that long."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Thank God for small blessings. Jennings would have heard us coming and taken off before we got there. I'd hate to think we made this trip for nothing."

"Even if Jennings gives us the slip, the trip wasn't for nothing; now you've officially visited the Big Island. You can mark one more place off your "to do" list."

"I'm not sure it was ever on my "to do" list," Danny groused.

Steve chuckled. "You know what you need?"

"A cold beer and the rest of my Saturday back?"

"No. You, my friend, need a better appreciation of nature." Steve pointed out the car window at the vegetation. "Just look at the size of those guava plants. The Kona region not only grows the best coffee in the world, but also some of the largest fruit in Hawaii."

"Thank you for that blatant infomercial, Mr. Chamber of Commerce. Are there going to be any other sponsors for today's junket? Maybe Microsoft, hmm? Or Subway? I hear they have a mean sweet onion chicken teriyaki sub."

Steve glanced over at Danny. "Look who woke up on the wrong side of his hotel bed this morning."

"I just want to get this over and get back home. Chin and Kono definitely owe us for taking this one." He glanced at his watch and sighed. "Are we there yet?"

Steve snorted. "What are you, like six?"

"I just don't see why it's taking so long to get there," Danny grumbled as he looked out the window at the passing coffee orchard.

"And here I didn't even think you'd notice, considering you played Angry Birds for most of the flight."

Danny shrugged. "It seemed like a good use of my time."

Steve looked over at his partner. "Grace beat you again, didn't she?"

Danny avoided Steve's gaze by turning to look out the window. "No comment."

Steve laughed. "I keep telling you, it's a straight-up physics game. Once you know the physics, you know how to shoot the bird."

"Oh, I can think of one bird I could shoot right now, no physics required," Danny threatened with a thin smile.

Steve laughed again as he turned off the main highway and onto a dirt road. "Well, you'll have to introduce me to your finger later. We're here. This is Jennings' place." The dirt road continued for about a mile, lined on both sides by thick coffee plants. Then, a small clearing opened with an old farmhouse sitting in the middle. A muddy pick-up was parked on the right and a small Bobcat excavator sat to the rear.

Danny pulled out his H&K and checked it, placing it back in his holster as Steve pulled to a stop.

Steve followed suit and then nodded to Danny while reaching for his door. "Let's go."

"Jennings isn't much for housekeeping, is he?" Danny remarked as they walked toward the front door, taking in the overgrown weeds in the yard and once-white paint peeling off the house.

"I think he's more interested in smuggling than reading Better Homes and Gardens," Steve replied as he climbed up the front porch steps, Danny following a few steps behind.

"Better Homes and Gardens, huh? I thought you preferred reading Woman's Day," Danny snarked.

Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

Danny shook his head and grinned. "Nope."

Steve sighed and knocked on the door. After a few seconds of silence, he knocked again. "Mr. Jennings?" he called. "Five-oh. We have a few questions for you."

A few more seconds of silence passed. Danny drew his weapon and held it down to his side. "Running, hiding, or not home?"

"Not sure," Steve replied, also drawing his weapon. "But I'll bet he's here somewhere." He nodded to the side, where the Bobcat sat next to a mound of dirt and a half-way completed irrigation ditch. "That dirt looks fresh. My bet is he was digging earlier this morning."

Danny nodded. "Well, then we might as well start with the house. Do you want to do the honors?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Steve took a few steps back and then kicked in the front door.

They quickly swept the house, finding it empty. "Clear," Steve said as he finished checking the basement.

"Clear," Danny echoed from the top of the basement stairs.

Steve climbed the stairs, shutting the door behind him and joined Danny at the back door, which led from the kitchen to the backyard.

"Did you notice this?" Danny asked, pointing to the door knob.

Steve leaned over and looked at it. "It's unlocked." He nodded and straightened up. "Unless Jennings leaves without locking up, he's here somewhere."

"My thoughts, too." Danny sighed as Steve walked over to one of the kitchen windows and drew the tattered curtains to the side. "Just what I wanted to do today- look for a criminal on the run in the middle of a coffee orchard. Maybe we should have brought the helicopter after all."

"Or maybe not," Steve commented, nodding outside. Danny joined him at the window and looked out at the backyard. At the edge of the clearing, about fifteen feet from the back porch, were two well-aged wooden doors, angled into the ground.

"A cellar?" Danny asked. "He's not dumb enough to hide in one of those, is he?"

"Probably not, but we have to check it out anyway."

"I don't like the looks of it," Danny said, shaking his head as he scanned the area, taking in the surroundings. "There are too many places for Jennings to hide. Not to mention, this is his home turf. He'll know them all."

Steve dropped the curtain and moved to the back door. "Agreed. We'll have to be careful. We'll sweep the area before opening the cellar. Then, I'll go down and check out it out while you stay up top and keep an eye out for Jennings." He held his SIG in his right hand, left hand ready on the door knob. "You ready?"

Danny nodded. "As I'll ever be."

Steve opened the door and the two partners cautiously made their way outside, guns at the ready, as they squinted in the bright sunshine. They cleared the backyard before Steve moved toward the cellar. Steve turned on the tactical light on his SIG and aimed it at the cellar doors, waiting as Danny quickly cleared the Bobcat and irrigation ditch. Finding nothing, Danny silently moved to Steve's side and nodded.

Steve grabbed one of the old, rusty handles and jerked the door open as Danny covered him. Then he flipped the other door open and started down the dozen or so rotting, uneven steps. He swept the stairs with the light on his SIG as he went and his eyes adjusted to the darkness as he descended.

"See anything?" Danny called, looking down into the cellar.

Once at the bottom, Steve quickly cleared the room and lowered his gun as he walked back to the stairs. "No, noth-" Steve's voice cut off as he looked back up at his partner.

"Danny!" he called out as he simultaneously raised his gun.

Danny heard Steve's warning and began to turn his head, but he was a second too late.

Steve could only watch, horrified, as Jennings slammed the blade of a shovel into the side of Danny's head. Danny immediately slumped, unconscious, his knees giving way. Jennings caught Danny before he hit the ground and used his body as a shield. Before Steve could get a clean shot, Jennings pushed Danny from behind, sending his lifeless body on a swan dive down the stairs.

Steve dropped his SIG and ran to break Danny's fall, but he didn't make it in time. The left side of Danny's body hit the top of the stairs just as Steve reached him and Danny's momentum sent both of them tumbling down the remaining way together. Steve finally landed at the base of the stairs hard on his back with Danny's dead weight on top of him.

Then the world turned black.

It took Steve a few seconds to realize that he hadn't passed out.

Instead, Jennings had slammed the cellar doors shut, blocking out the light. Steve struggled to get free of Danny's weight and rolled his partner off of him as gently as he could. Then he ran up the stairs, two at a time and pushed against the cellar doors.

They only budged an inch. But it was enough for a sliver of daylight to pass through the crack. It was also enough for Steve to see that Jennings had threaded the shovel through the door handles, effectively blocking them in.

Steve dropped the doors and hurried back down the stairs, looking for his dropped SIG. He carefully sidestepped Danny's body and found the gun a few feet away, its tactical light still on like a beacon in the darkness. He quickly picked it up and was halfway back up the stairs when he heard a loud engine start. Steve cursed, thinking of Jennings getting away in the pick-up, leaving him and Danny trapped underground.

But then something clicked in his head.

The engine was too loud for a pick-up.

That meant…

Steve cursed again, more fiercely this time, and he bounded up the last few steps. He stood back, took aim at the middle of the sliver of a gap between the cellar doors, and fired twice, hoping to splinter the shovel's wooden handle. Then he frantically pushed against the doors to see if he had succeeded. The doors gave a little more easily this time, and he pushed even harder, satisfied to hear the crack and splinter of the shovel handle and to see a few inches of daylight. He adjusted his position and put his shoulder into it, pushing again with all of his strength. He had almost finished breaking the handle in two when the doors slammed back down hard, knocking him off balance and sending a stream of dirt into his face.

Steve stumbled down a few stairs but managed not to fall all the way down. He wiped the dirt out of his eyes, ignored his throbbing shoulder, and went back to the top of the stairs to try again. But this time, the doors did not give at all, no matter how hard he pushed.

Steve pounded frantically on the cellar doors. "Jennings!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "Jennings! Let us out of here!"

Jennings could barely hear Steve over the loud engine of the Bobcat, but he didn't stop.

Instead, he smiled and happily hummed a tune to himself as he dumped a second load of dirt on top of the cellar doors.

_To be continued…._


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: Thanks for the response so far, guys. I appreciate the alerts and to the reviewers, your reviews are as good to me as a Route 44 Diet Coke. Well, almost. Ok, fine. They're better. Are you happy now? ;)

I neglected to mention before that this story is four chapters long. So with today, we are half-way there.

* * *

><p>Chapter Two<p>

"Danny? Danny? Can you hear me?"

Danny groaned.

"That's it," Steve encouraged, squeezing Danny on the arm. "Can you open your eyes?"

Danny squinted against a bright light, shielding his eyes with his hand, and groaned again. He hurt everywhere. But at present, his head was the worst and Steve shining a light at him wasn't helping at all. "If you want me to open my eyes, you'd better turn that thing off."

"If I do that, I can't gauge the reaction of your pupils," Steve said simply.

"Of course not," Danny complained, gearing up for a rant, but then he stopped. "Wait… where did you get that light?"

Steve was silent.

"Are you pointing your SIG at my head?" Danny asked, incredulously.

Steve at least had the decency to sound sheepish. "Well, technically, I'm pointing it at your eyes."

"Why doesn't that make me feel any better?"

"I'll turn the light off once you let me take a look."

Danny sighed and moved his hand, squinting once again against the bright light. "Are you sure you have the safety on?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Steve said. Then he paused and shrugged noncommittally. "Well, I'm pretty sure."

"Great," Danny groused, "just great." He sighed and then opened his eyes a little wider. "Let's get this over with before you shoot me, point blank."

"If I wanted to shoot you, I'd do it from further away," Steve replied, conversationally, as he inspected Danny's left pupil, then his right. "It's easier to deny that way."

Danny snorted. "Glad to know you've already given it some thought. Are we done now?"

Satisfied, Steve nodded and diverted the light away. "Yeah. We're done."

"Good." Danny struggled to sit up but waved off Steve's hand when he offered help. Once vertical, Danny leaned his back against the wall for support and closed his eyes, willing the nausea and dizziness to pass. Steve sat down beside Danny and also leaned against the wall, propping his elbow on his knee. He waited in silence, giving Danny the space he needed to adjust.

After a minute, Danny felt better, opened his eyes, and looked over at Steve. He appeared to be fine as far as Danny could tell, but with Steve it never hurt to check.

"Are you ok?" Danny asked, thankful that room had stopped spinning but still waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Steve replied. "Jennings directed all of his anger your way."

Danny nodded. "Glad I could take one for the team."

Now he was able to see, he looked around the cellar and noted it was roughly an 8x10 room with a dirt ceiling and walls. The stairs, which looked like they had seen decidedly better days, were directly in front of him and led up to a set of closed, wooden cellar doors. The cellar itself contained no furniture, no shelves, and no lights. Basically, the room was a rectangular hole in the ground and nothing more.

Danny waved his hand around, airily. "Nice place you've got here."

Steve shrugged. "I've been meaning to white-wash it, but I haven't really had time."

"How long have we been down here?"

"About half an hour."

"Great. Care to tell me what happened?"

"Jennings knocked you out."

Danny rubbed the goose egg on the side of his head and then pulled his hand away, frowning at the congealed blood. "Yeah. I got that much."

"Then he pushed you down the stairs."

"Well, that would explain everything else," Danny replied, flexing his left tender elbow.

"The good news is, you're possibly concussed, and definitely bumped and bruised, but you're not bleeding anymore and nothing is broken. You'll be sore for a few days but then you'll be just fine."

Danny scrunched up his face and looked at Steve in the dim light from the SIG, which Steve now pointed down to the floor. "And you know this how?"

"I checked you for injuries while you were out," Steve replied, unapologetically. "Just basic field triage, nothing fancy."

"This day just gets better and better," Danny muttered.

Steve shrugged, not letting Danny's obvious discomfort bother him. "That's not the worst thing that's happened today."

Danny snorted. "There's something worse than you poking and prodding me while I was asleep? That's hard to believe."

"Jennings buried us in here," Steve deadpanned.

Danny was silent for a minute.

"Ok," he finally conceded with a nod. "That is worse."

Steve nodded. "Yes, it is. And before you ask, yes, I've already tried to get cell phone coverage. No bars."

"And I'm assuming the GPS doesn't work either?" Danny asked.

Steve shook his head. "No. GPS needs a clear line to the satellite in order to work, which we obviously don't have."

Danny sighed and ran his hands down the sides of his hair in frustration. "So, let me get this straight. We've been buried alive by a coffee farmer turned smuggler and nobody knows we are missing and we don't have a way to contact anyone?"

Steve nodded. "Sounds about right."

"Any other cheery news you'd care to share?"

"The cruiser we drove out here has a GPS in it. When we don't bring the car back, Hawaii PD will come looking for us."

"That is, unless Jennings moves the car somewhere else," Danny added.

"True," Steve agreed. "But I've been listening and I haven't heard its motor. Besides, I don't plan on us sticking around that long."

"What's your plan?"

Steve stood up and walked up to the top of the stairs, shining his SIG light at the underside of the cellar doors. "These doors are our best shot at getting out. The wood is old and starting to rot. I think if we pulled at the cross-piece here," Steve shined his light on the piece of wood that was nailed at a diagonal on one of the doors, "then we can weaken the door enough that it will break."

"Ok, time out." Danny held up his hands and joined Steve on the stairs. "I thought you said Jennings buried us in here. If we do that, won't all that dirt fall in on us?"

Steve nodded. "I'm counting on it."

Danny stared at Steve, dumbfounded for a moment, before speaking. "You are even more insane that I thought you were."

Steve shook his head. "No, Danny, it makes sense. If we can get one of the doors to collapse and then the other door holds steady, only half of the dirt will fall in. We should have enough space in here to funnel that dirt all the way down to the bottom of the cellar. Then, we'll simply dig out through what's left. It should be fairly easy."

"And if the other door doesn't hold?" Danny asked.

"Then we're screwed," Steve replied, grimly.

Danny blew out a large breath and clasped his hands together. "Ok. Well, as fun as that all sounds, I think we should stick with sitting tight and waiting for the Hawaii PD to come look for their car."

"We can't."

Danny eyebrows shot up. "We can't? And why can't we?"

Steve refused to meet Danny's eyes.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Danny asked.

Steve dragged his hand down his face in frustration before answering. "The cellar's not that big, Danny. If it takes the police a while to notice the car is missing, there's a good chance we'll be out of oxygen before they get here."

Danny stood still for a moment, absorbing the news. "Well, that is a problem. How long do you think we have?"

"I'm not sure, but my best guess is about four hours."

Danny sighed. "And you're sure the doors are the only way out? How about tunneling through the roof instead?"

Steve shook his head. "This cellar has been here for years, probably decades. The ground's too packed and besides, we don't have anything to dig with. The looser dirt on top of the doors is our best bet."

Danny sighed again. "Sounds like we don't have a choice, then. Let's do this."

Steve nodded and then moved into position at the top of the stairs, just beneath the left cellar door. He set his SIG down on the top step, pointing upward for light. Danny joined him, one stair lower, and both men reached out and grabbed a hold of the angled cross-piece on the right cellar door.

"You ready?" Steve asked.

"To throw my life away? Sure, why not?"

"Ok then. On the count of three. One, two, three."

They both pulled as hard as they could on the cross-piece and after about thirty seconds, they were rewarded when one of the nails pulled out of the door. Steve signaled for a break and they both released their hold.

"OK," Steve said, huffing heavily. "That went well. One or two more times should do the trick."

Danny was breathing hard as well. "On the count of three again?"

Steve nodded and both men resumed their positions, and on the count of three, pulled again. This time, they were rewarded more quickly. A second nail popped out and the door began to sag under the weight of the dirt.

"Whoa! Back up!" Steve called, instinctively shooting his arm out to hold Danny away from the door.

The right door creaked and groaned as the rotted timber struggled to stay together. But the weight was too much and the door caved, allowing the dirt to pour in.

"See? What'd I tell you?" Steve said proudly, looking at Danny.

Danny didn't seem to share his joy. "Um, Steve?" he said, pointing up past Steve's head.

Steve turned to follow Danny's finger and his eyes went wide. The left cellar door was beginning to creak and buckle as well.

"Go! Go!" Steve yelled as he turned around, pushing Danny down the stairs.

They made it halfway before the left door collapsed, sending the remaining dirt crashing down on them. When it finally settled, the mound covered not only the stairs but half of the space inside the cellar. Still more dirt blocked the hole created when the doors buckled, effectively blocking all light as well as the only way out.

This time, they really were buried.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Buried._

_Darkness._

_Suffocating. _

_Can't breathe._

Steve tried to pull in a lungful of air, but only managed to get dirt in his mouth. He spat the earth back out and quickly closed his mouth.

He did some quick math in his head. He knew he could hold his breath for over 6 minutes; he had done so numerous times as a SEAL. But Danny had never received that training. An average person can hold their breath for a minute, tops, provided they did not panic. And Steve was willing to bet Danny was panicking. After all, Steve was trying hard not to panic himself.

That meant he had precious little time to dig himself out and find Danny.

Steve's SEAL training immediately kicked in and he formed a plan.

Step one: Stop breathing. _ Done_, he noted.

Step two: Figure out which way was up. The dirt had knocked them down the stairs headfirst. He thought he was lying face down, but it was hard to tell since he was surrounded on all sides by earth. But if he could find the stairs, he could figure out which way to dig. He pushed his legs out, which was easier said than done, considering the sheer weight of the dirt around him. He had to push a few times and at different angles, but finally his right heel caught on a step. He moved his leg up and back and hit the front of another step. _Face down it is,_ he thought. Which meant "up" was perpendicular to his body.

Step three: Dig out. Also easier said than done. Steve twisted his body so he was facing up and struggled to move his feet beneath him but after a few seconds, he was able to touch the ground. He firmly planted his feet and pushed up with all of his might, his arms stretched out above his head. Now fully standing, his hands were able to break the surface. He quickly began pushing the dirt up and out, creating an inverted cone around his body. After a few seconds, his head broke through. He gulped in the air, filling his lungs several times before he had enough breath to talk.

"Danny!" Steve called.

He was answered with silence.

"Danny!" he yelled again, more loudly this time.

Still no response.

Steve cursed and began digging even harder. Once the dirt was only to his waist, he braced his arms on each side of his body and pushed, lifting himself out. The dirt collapsed back into the hole, creating some movement of the top of the mound.

Step 4: Find Danny.

"Danny!" Steve yelled again, to no avail. He thought Danny was ahead of him when the cellar door collapsed, which meant he should be nearby. But the truth of the matter was the incoming dirt knocked them both down so forcefully, Danny could be anywhere. And as tempting as it was to start digging indiscriminately, he knew he might only get one shot. He would have to be smart about picking a location.

Steve tried to survey the area but couldn't see anything in the pitch black darkness. He reached for his SIG when he realized he had placed it on the top step for light. Finding it now would be even harder than finding Danny. But he had another idea. He quickly pulled out his phone from the pocket of his cargo pants and opened the flashlight app. He shined it around the cellar, relieved that it provided just enough light for him to see the room, albeit dimly.

"Danny" he yelled again.

This time, he saw some movement about five feet his right. The dirt moved just a small amount, but it was enough. Steve tossed his phone on the mound and scrambled over the dirt as quickly as he could.

"I'm coming, Danny! Hang in there!" he called as he frantically began digging. Within seconds, he had found Danny's lifeless left hand. He kept digging, uncovering Danny's arm and finally, Danny's head. The detective's lips were slightly tinged blue and he looked decidedly worse for wear. Actually, he looked dead.

"Danny!" Steve firmly grasped Danny's left shoulder and shook him, terrified he was too late.

Then Danny's eyes popped open and he heaved in a large breath of air.

"That's right," Steve encouraged, grasping his partner's left shoulder. He was so happy to see Danny alive that he actually laughed.

Danny closed his eyes and continued to gulp in air while Steve encouraged him. Eventually, his breathing evened out a little and Danny looked up at his partner wearily for a moment before speaking.

"No offense," he gasped, "but your Big Island sucks."

Steve laughed. "Well, we certainly didn't pick the right day to visit."

Steve watched as Danny's breathing became less labored and his color improved. But now that the relief of Danny being alive had passed, Steve noted something was still off. Danny's face was pinched and he was obviously in pain.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked.

Danny laughed, breathlessly. "Seriously? We've been buried alive in a cellar. What's _not_ wrong?"

"I meant with you," Steve corrected, still concerned.

Danny shifted his body slightly and pressed his lips together tightly, wincing at the sharp pain. What he had feared was true. "I can't move my right arm."

Steve looked down and noticed that only Danny's left arm was visible. The right one was still buried. He moved to Danny's right side and gently swept the dirt away from his shoulder, frowning at what he saw.

"It's dislocated, isn't it?" Danny asked.

"Yeah," Steve replied, grimly. "How bad is the pain?"

"Pretty bad," Danny confessed.

Steve sighed. "I hate to tell you, it's only going to get worse. I still have to pull you out."

"Great," Danny groaned.

"I'll dig you out as much as I can to try and minimize the pulling," Steve offered, "but there will still be some discomfort."

Danny looked at Steve, incredulously. "Some 'discomfort'? What is that, a super secret SEAL code word for excruciating pain?"

Steve grimaced. "Pretty much."

Danny sighed again. "If we ever get out of here, I swear I'm never stepping in a cellar again."

"I actually agree with you on that one," Steve replied as he began digging.

A few minutes later, Steve had dug through enough dirt to free Danny almost down to his waist. "Ok," Steve said, dusting off his hands. "That's as far as I can go and still have enough room for us up top. You ready?"

"Not really. But I don't think I have a choice."

Steve nodded. "You don't." He braced himself and wrapped his arms around Danny's chest, below his shoulders. "I'm going to pull and I need you to push with your feet at the same time. Think you can do that?" Danny nodded back. "Ok then. Let' go."

Steve pulled as hard as he could, visibly straining to clear Danny from the dirt. Danny pushed with his legs as well and somehow managing not to cry out in pain. They made a few inches progress when Steve said, "Ok, stop." They both stopped and heaved in air for a minute, gearing up for the next try.

"Ready?" Steve asked.

Danny nodded between heaves and readied himself for the next try.

Steve braced his arms around Danny, this time a bit lower, trying to minimize the pull on Danny's right shoulder. They pulled and pushed again and this time, progress was much faster. A few moments later, Danny was free and both men lay on their backs on top of the dirt, panting from exertion.

After finally catching his breath, Steve looked over at Danny, whose eyes were closed, his face twisted up in unmistakable pain. "You ok?" he asked.

"Just peachy," Danny managed between pants of breath.

"You know I could set your shoulder," Steve said as he started to roll over and face Danny. "I just need to - ugh!"

Danny's eyes popped open and he looked over at Steve. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he asked, mentally chastising himself for not asking before all of Steve's heroics.

Steve brushed off his side and pulled his t-shirt back down. "Nah, I'm fine. It's just a mosquito bite."

Danny closed his eyes again, trying to control the pain. "Perfect. As if being buried alive wasn't enough, now we've been hermetically sealed in a death-vault with a hoard of hungry mosquitoes. Just so you know, I'm seriously considering moving back to New Jersey. And by the way," he added, "I heard that."

"Heard what?" Steve asked, confused.

"You. Rolling your eyes."

Steve snorted but didn't deny Danny's charge. "It was one mosquito, Danny, not a hoard. And stop deflecting. Now do you want me to set your shoulder or not?"

"Not."

"Too bad," Steve replied simply as he crawled over to Danny.

Danny opened his eyes and looked up at Steve. "Wait! I thought I had a choice," he protested.

"You thought wrong. I gave you the semblance of a choice."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because outcomes are generally better when patients think they have a measure of control."

"Patients?" Danny balked. "Who died and made you Marcus Welby?"

Steve sighed. "Nobody. But I'm the best you've got. And if it makes you feel better, I have done this before and it's always worked, without complications."

"At the moment, I'm more worried about the excruciating pain than the complications, thank you very much. But it's nice to know my corpse will look good."

Steve sighed again. "I'm still going to get us out of here. But that will be easier if you have two semi-functioning arms. So let's stop arguing and wasting what little oxygen we have left and do this."

Danny looked miserable but finally nodded.

"Ok," Steve said as he grasped Danny's right arm, preparing to roll it into the socket. "On the count of three. One, tw-" and, not waiting for three, he popped Danny's shoulder into place.

Danny cried out in agony and instinctively rolled over on his right side, cradling his arm. Steve sat silently and placed a grounding hand on Danny's left arm, sympathetically offering moral support. After a few minutes, Danny's groans began to subside and his breathing started to regulate.

"You gonna be ok?" Steve asked.

"No… thanks… to you," Danny ground out, pain still evident in his voice. "Freakin'… sadistic… liar..."

Steve patted Danny's left arm gently. "You'll thank me later."

Danny groaned. "Don't… count… on it."

"Just rest for a minute," Steve said with another pat. He picked up his phone for the light and then stood up. So much dirt was piled into the cellar now that he had to hunch over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. He slowly walked to where the cellar doors used to be, testing each step before he took it to ensure he didn't sink down in a soft pocket of dirt. Once at the top, where the dirt poured in, he set the phone down and began to dig with his hands. For every handful of dirt he scooped out, another one fell inside to take its place.

"How's it going up there?" Danny called out after a few minutes.

Steve turned around to look down at Danny, who had managed to sit up in the meantime. "Ok," he replied, breathing heavily. "But the dirt keeps coming in. Think you're up to helping?"

Danny nodded. "Just give me a minute to get there."

Steve returned to his work as Danny gently rocked forward onto his knees. He braced himself with his good arm and, after taking a deep breath, he managed to stand up. He walked slowly to the top of what used to be the stairs, carefully testing for soft pockets along the way as Steve had done. Once next to Steve, he began digging with his left hand.

It was hard work, and discouraging, since dirt continued to pile in.

"Just how much dirt did Jennings have in that mound?" Danny groused, breathing heavily from the exertion.

"Don't know," Steve replied, then sucked in a large breath of air.

Danny turned to him, concerned. "How much oxygen do you think we have left in here?" he asked.

Steve shook his head. "Don't know that, either. So we'd better dig fast."

They continued digging but their progress was frustrating and indeterminate.

After a few minutes, Steve took a break and sat down. He was heaving in breaths as hard and deep as he could, but it was obvious he was not getting enough air. Danny crouched down beside him, worried. He was short of breath, too, but nothing like Steve, who was digging twice as much with his two functioning arms. Danny placed a hand on Steve's shoulder and looked at his face. "Hey, you ok?" he asked.

Steve looked up and nodded. "Just… need a… break," he got out between deep breaths.

Danny did not look convinced, but knew sitting and worrying about Steve wasn't going to get them out of the cellar, especially when the air was obviously close to running out. He gave Steve's shoulder a squeeze and then stood up and resumed his digging. Danny kept his eyes on the dirt, but his ears remained focused on Steve. But instead of getting better, Steve's labored breathing continued to get worse.

Finally, Danny stopped his digging again and turned to face his partner. He was surprised to find Steve lying down on the ground, his eyes closed, as he strained to take in air.

Danny quickly crouched down and grasped Steve's arm. "Hey," he called. He became more concerned when Steve didn't acknowledge him or even open his eyes. Steve's entire focus appeared to be on the difficult task of getting his next breath of air.

And that's when it clicked in Danny's brain.

Steve wasn't suffering from oxygen deprivation. After all, Danny was breathing heavily, but was otherwise fine. If Steve's problems were caused by exertion, they would have gotten better from taking a break, not worse. This was something else entirely.

"Hey," Danny called again, this time a bit louder, and he shook Steve's arm. Steve weakly opened his eyes in acknowledgement before closing them again, which made Danny worry even more. "I know it's not the air that's doing this to you," Danny scolded, "so don't lie to me. What's wrong?"

Steve heaved in a few more breaths, gathering his strength before he answered. "You know the… mosquito bite?" he questioned, then returned to gasping for air.

Danny nodded as the fear settled in his stomach. "Yes. What about it?"

Steve struggled for breath before he was able to speak.

"It wasn't… a… mosquito."

_To be continued… _


	4. Chapter 4

Author's notes: So, what _is_ wrong with Steve? I'm happy to say, a few of you did guess correctly.

Since this is the final chapter, I wanted to thank you again for reading and especially reviewing. I know you have a choice in fanfic reading and I appreciate you choosing sockie fic. (wow…. I've had too much caffeine already this morning.) Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed the story.

And thanks again to my beta team of Cokie316 and Rogue Tomato. And Cokie- I'm sorry I made you suffer through so many drafts of chapter 4. I promise I'll make it up to you.

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

"What do you mean, it wasn't a mosquito?" Danny demanded, but Steve was trying so hard to breathe that he couldn't answer.

Cursing, Danny pulled up Steve's t-shirt to take a look at his side. There was a red mark near his waist, about the size of Danny's hand, but other than that, he couldn't see anything wrong. He felt gently along Steve's ribcage, but didn't detect any damage. In short, Danny had no idea why Steve couldn't breathe, but it was clear he was not getting any better. They needed to get out of the cellar.

Now.

Danny dropped Steve's shirt and squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, Steve. I'll get us out."

Steve barely managed a nod and Danny took that as his cue to get moving. He stood up and raised both his hands to dig, no longer concerned about protecting his injured shoulder, when all of a sudden the cellar went dark.

Danny cursed again and looked around, but the light from Steve's phone was gone, its battery most likely dead. Danny pulled his own phone out of his pocket, hoping he still had some battery life left; he hadn't thought to check before. He held down a button and breathed a sigh of relief when the phone lit up. He hit the button to find his flashlight when something caught his eye—the round, red, unmistakable face of an Angry Bird.

Steve's words from earlier in the day echoed in his mind. "_I keep telling you, it's a straight-up physics game. Once you know the physics, you know how to shoot the bird."_

"Or in this case," Danny mumbled to himself, realization dawning, "once you know the physics, you know how to dig the hole."

Suddenly, he knew what he needed to do. He stepped around, looking for a soft spot in the dirt, and found one. He thrust his leg down into the hole and was rewarded by a thunk on his first try. Danny smiled and reached down with his hands, pulling up one of the broken boards from the cellar door.

He looked at Steve on his way back to the top of the dirt mound. His partner wasn't doing any better but at least he was still alive.

Danny got into position and studied the earth, plotting his angle. Then, he began to dig, using the board to press down the dirt as he dug, forming a perfect, circular tunnel, about four inches across. His right shoulder was screaming in protest from the use but he didn't dare stop. He glanced back at Steve who was now arching his back off the ground, desperately trying to draw in a breath of air.

"Hang in there, Steve! You hear me?" Danny yelled.

Steve didn't respond. But he didn't stop breathing either, and at this point, Danny took that as a win.

He turned back to his tunnel and after another minute, he saw it. A tiny spot of blue, as big as a marble. Danny dug more furiously now and in less than a minute, the marble sized hole was big enough for his hand. He set the board down and grabbed his phone, extending it through the tunnel towards the fresh air above. And, more importantly, he hoped, into cell phone range. Danny couldn't see if he had any bars, but he turned on the speakerphone and pressed a few numbers anyway, praying they would work.

After a few seconds, he got his answer when he heard the most beautiful voice in the world on the other end of the line.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

*H50*

Steve knew he was in a hospital before he even opened his eyes. There was no mistaking the scratchy feel of the sheets or the strong scent of bleach and Lysol. But for once, Steve didn't mind the smell because it meant he could breathe. He inhaled deeply, relieved to finally be able to do so, and noticed the air seemed a bit humid. _Oxygen,_ he thought. _ Must have a cannula._

He heard a sound and opened his eyes to see Danny rising up from a chair on the right side his bed. He looked exhausted and more than a little ticked off. His clothes were still covered in dirt and the only clean spot on him was the sling that immobilized his right arm and shoulder.

"Sleeping Beauty awakes," Danny announced, flatly. "Or should I call you Little Miss Muffet?"

Steve blinked. "What happened?" he asked, a bit groggily. He looked down and noticed several leads extending from his chest, snaking out from underneath a dreaded hospital gown, past a pulse ox on his finger, over to several machines to the left of his bed.

"You mean after you lied about getting bit by a spider?" Danny asked.

Steve looked chagrined as he pushed the button to raise the head of his bed into a sitting position. "You figured it out, huh?"

Danny rocked back on his heels. "No, _I_ didn't figure it out. Raul did. He was the paramedic who saved your lousy butt. I told him how you'd lied about the mosquito bite and he took one look at your side and immediately knew not only that it was a spider bite but that you were having an anaphylactic reaction. At first, I didn't think that was possible, because surely my partner would have told me something as important as having a potentially fatal allergy to spider bites. Especially if he had, oh… I don't know," Danny paused dramatically for effect, "_been bitten by a spider_?"

"I…" Steve tried to cut in.

"Stop!" Danny replied, angrily, his hand in the air. "I am not finished yet. I've had to sit here quietly for two hours waiting for you to wake up, so you don't get to say a word until I am finished. Got it?"

Steve closed his mouth and sighed. But he nodded, knowing the rant was inevitable. Sometimes, it was just best to let Danny go ahead and get it out.

"Good," Danny nodded back. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, I was marveling that my partner would fail to inform me of something as significant as an allergy to spider bites. But Raul was convinced that was what it was and since you were unconscious and quite honestly, _almost dead_, he loaded up a syringe with epinephrine and jabbed it in your leg. Imagine my surprise when you magically started breathing again."

"Danny…"

"Zip it! Remember?"

Steve sighed but nodded again.

"Ok. Now, I have a few questions for you which you will answer truthfully," Danny continued, in full interrogation mode. "First and foremost, did you or did you not know you were allergic to spider bites?"

Steve peered at Danny. "Do I have permission to speak?"

Danny nodded. "Permission granted."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yes, Your Majesty, I knew I had an allergy. But I haven't had a reaction since I was a kid. And the last time, I only got a few hives. I've never a reaction come on that quickly or get that bad before. I actually thought I had outgrown it years ago."

"Hmph," Danny replied, obviously displeased. "So why did you lie and tell me you were bit by a mosquito?"

"I know you're not crazy about bugs and I didn't want to upset you," Steve replied, matter-of-factly.

Danny looked at Steve, incredulously. "We were buried alive and running out of oxygen. You thought a visit from the Itsy-Bitsy Spider would send me over the edge?"

Steve looked a bit apologetic. "In hindsight, lying probably wasn't the best idea."

"Ya think?" Danny exploded, throwing his good hand up in the air. He paced around in a circle for a minute, working through his anger. Then he turned, looked at Steve, and blew out an exasperated breath.

"Do you know what you need?" he asked, pointing his finger at Steve.

"An AMA release form and a plane ride home?" Steve offered, hopefully.

"No," Danny replied, wagging his finger. "You, my friend, need a better appreciation for nature. From now on, you're going to carry an Epipen."

Steve looked at Danny, trying to decide if he should be amused or annoyed. "Who are you, my mother?"

"No, but I am your partner. And I'm the one who has to save your life, which is far more difficult than it should be," Danny replied, his rant mode engaged. "Your normal day-to-day activities are bad enough and that's before you start throwing life-threatening allergies in just for fun. So you will have one with you at all times. We'll put one in your house, one at the office, and one in the glove box with your beloved stash of grenades. And if you don't like that, I'll make you carry one with your gun. And I have to tell you, the ladies will find your thigh-holster decidedly less sexy after I've duct-taped an Epipen to it."

Steve sighed, not really liking the idea, but also knowing Danny's suggestion made sense. After all, Danny was just trying to keep him alive and even Steve had to admit he was partial to breathing. He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. You win."

"And you're going to stop lying to me about your injuries."

Steve scowled. Agreeing to have meds on hand was one thing; this was something else entirely. The last thing he wanted was a babysitter for a partner. "I'll tell you about the big ones," he suggested as a compromise.

"No," Danny shook his head. "This is not 'Let's Make a Deal'. And you don't get to choose what the big ones are since obviously you can't tell. You'll tell me about all of them or you'll look for a new partner."

Steve looked carefully at Danny. The seriousness and determination in the detective's eyes told Steve he wasn't bluffing. And as much as Steve hated to admit it, he knew Danny was right. Steve prided himself on being able to function well, and even excel, at less than 100%. But he also needed Danny to function at his best, too. Their effectiveness as a team would be hindered if Danny was always worrying about what Steve might be hiding. And after today, Steve knew he owed Danny complete honesty.

"Ok, ok," Steve acquiesced. "I'll tell you about all of them."

"Good," Danny affirmed with a nod, finally appeased.

"Would now be a good time to tell you I got a hangnail this morning?" Steve half-grinned.

Danny scowled. "Not funny."

"Oh, come on. That's funny," Steve replied. Then, looking at Danny's still unhappy face, he decided to change the subject. "How's your shoulder?"

Danny waved his hand dismissively. "It's fine. Doc said it should heal up in a few weeks, in spite of your best efforts to rip my arm off my body."

Steve grinned, recognizing Danny's speech for what it was. "I knew you'd thank me later."

"Yeah, yeah," Danny said flippantly, waving his hand around again. "As it turns out, it was a good thing you set it. Otherwise, we wouldn't have made it out of there."

"So how did we get out anyway?" Steve asked.

"Oh, that." Danny perked up and grinned. "That was easy. We were digging the wrong way. Instead of just straight-forward digging, which allows the dirt to keep pilling in, we should have been digging a tunnel. That way, the pressure from the ground is evenly distributed in a continuous arch, thereby creating a stable passageway."

Steve stared at Danny, stunned.

Danny chuckled at Steve's expression. "Don't look so surprised. You're not the only one who knows something about science. I went to college, too, you know. _And_ I took physics. And once you know the physics, you know how to dig the hole," he added with a grin.

A slow smile spread over Steve's face. "Danny Williams, a physics genius. Who knew?"

Danny grinned back. "If you want, I'll loan you my phone so you can play Angry Birds and brush up on your physics prowess."

Steve laughed. "I thought you stunk at that game. Grace is always beating you."

"That's because my daughter is brilliant and extremely lucky, not because I'm a bad player," Danny said, pointing to himself, proudly. "I even managed to put my mad skills to use this afternoon, showing the cute nurse down the hall how to clear a few levels in exchange for a copy of your MRI report."

Steve shook his head. "I don't need an MRI."

"Too late," Danny responded. "They already took one. Your doc wanted to check for brain damage."

"Let me guess," Steve interjected. "You told them an MRI was unnecessary because you already knew I had brain damage?"

"Nope." Danny shook his head, grinning with glee. "I told him to put a rush on it. I want documented medical proof that you're not right in the head. Once I get my hands on the report, I'm going to laminate that sucker and stick it on my fridge."

Steve shook his head but a smile crept up on his face anyway. "So, can we go then?" he asked, flipping back his blanket and hanging his legs off the side of the bed. "We need to find Jennings."

"We can go in a few more hours," Danny replied, motioning for Steve to get back in bed. "The doctors want to monitor your oxygen levels and heart rate for any adverse effects from the epi. And Jennings won't be a problem."

"How's that?" Steve asked, quizzically.

"Well, apparently he was so nervous after he gave us the premature burial that he ran a stop sign a few miles from his house. A cop pulled him over and when he ran his plates, he recognized Jennings name from the morning briefing. The officer knew we were looking for him so he did us a favor and brought him to the precinct for us. Hawaii PD had no idea he had already buried us in the cellar. They are charging him with two counts of attempted first degree murder as we speak. They're also going to send him to Honolulu next week so we can question him about the smuggling ring."

"So," Steve mused, "the trip was all for nothing after all."

"No, not all for nothing," Danny corrected, then waved his hand. "Don't get me wrong. It was mainly for nothing and I'm never coming back to this miserable island again even if there's a smuggler standing on every street corner. But thanks to this little fiasco, I know you're not going to lie to me anymore. And now you know I'm a physics genius. So," Danny smiled as he shoved his hand in his pocket, "we got something good out of it after all."

"Sounds like you got all the upside," Steve teased. "What did I get?"

"Are you alive?"

"Yes..."

Danny inclined his head, rocking forward on his feet. "That's what you got. And if you have a problem with that, let me know and I can stick you back in the cellar with your little eight-legged friend."

"Nah," Steve ginned and shook his head. "I'm good. And Danny?"

"Hmm?"

Steve looked up Danny, sincerely. "Thank you."

Danny paused for a moment before answering. "You're welcome. And thank you, too."

Steve nodded. "No problem, partner."

Then Danny chuckled. "It is kind of funny, though."

"What's that?"

"You," Danny replied, with a lift of his head. "You go around the world, taking down terrorists and gun runners and who knows who else, yet you get taken down by a spider faster than Superman with Kryptonite." Danny pretended not to notice Steve rolling his eyes and continued. "But of course, you're actually more like Spiderman. What was his Achilles heel?"

It was Steve's turn to frown. "A partner who didn't know when to shut up?"

Danny shook his head. "No, that wasn't it."

"That's right," Steve conceded with a nod. "Spiderman had the good sense to work alone."

Danny ignored him and began pacing and gesturing as he thought out loud. "All I'm saying is if I were you, I'd feel a little gypped. When you got bit by a spider, you went down for the count. It wasn't even a close contest. Charlotte and her little friends from childhood nursery rhymes, 1. Super SEAL, 0. But when Peter Parker got bit by a spider, he got all sorts of cool super powers." Danny stopped pacing and turned to Steve with a grin. "Hey, maybe you got some super powers, too. Have you tried shooting webs out of your hands?"

"I can think of one thing I can shoot out of my hand, no super powers required," Steve replied, complete with a sarcastic grin and a visual demonstration.

Danny ignored him again, clearly enjoying himself. "You know, I bet Kamekona could get you a good deal on a nice Spiderman costume. Granted, it would be at least five sizes too big, but you're handy with a needle and thread. I bet you could tailor it to fit in no time. Just make sure you sew on a little pocket for your Epipen. Duct tape doesn't stick to fabric very well."

Steve shook his head as he chucked under his breath.

"Hey, Danno?"

This time Danny didn't ignore Steve. He looked at his partner and grinned.

"Yeah, Babe?"

Steve grinned back.

"Bite me."

_The end_


End file.
